...

Yeah, I don't have any great title for ... anything.

Okay ... I feel the need to blog, but I ... I don't really know what to write. So this post is just a huge brain dump.

You're welcome.

Michael and Bruise are out with a couple of the neighbor boys (from a family in the ward ... their dad is pretty ill right now. He was in the hospital earlier this month. I hope he's doing better. Michael'd know. He's been over there a couple times) on the Stake (a group of wards and branches, i.e., congregations) Father-Son Campout.
So it's just us girls here at home tonight.

I watched a cartoon (short) with Bucket. Bubbles is napping. I should get her up.
Bucket and I, pre-cartoon, cleaned up the front rooms ... and picked up their bedroom a little more.
I made mac-n-cheese and hot dogs.
I also put a crapload of boric acid on the dining room carpet (honestly, a carpeted dining room? STUPID), swept it into the carpet ... then vacuumed it up. Because I'm sick of having ants in our house.
Our carpet is a great color for not showing dirt ... but it makes it hard to see if ants are crawling ALL OVER IT. Sucks either way.

We also are getting some estimates from exterminators. Because I've learned that I can't handle these ant swarms by myself. If I could, I'd find a poison that worked ONLY on ants ... and I'd move the house from its foundation, COAT EVERYTHING with the poison, stir it in (Push it! Push it REAL GOOD!), and put the house back.
Or, failing that, NUKE THE HELL OUT OF EVERYTHING.
I really am just fed up with these stupid ants.

If I knew where the nest was, I'd totally be up for piling the agonized corpses of all the ones I've killed by the entrance. Like I'm the freaking Godfather.

Also, like my friend Damien said (and he's TOTALLY right), smashed ants smell like Pepsi.
No wonder I don't care for Pepsi.

Michael's bought me, like, THREE Cherry Cokes this week. Good man.
It's that week now. Shark week, if you get my point.
I NEEDED Cherry Coke.
They must put crack in it.
My mom also picked me up a Cherry Coke.
That's how much she loves me.

I had given Bucket an envelope of money to take to school to buy punch cards and tickets for the Family Fun Fair (School Carnival) this weekend. And she never brought home the cards and tickets ... because she didn't put the money in her bag. Michael did, at my bequest. BUT she had TWO backpacks hanging up. And he had put it in the one that she WASN'T using this week. *sigh* But we got it figured out ... and the cards and tickets are in my purse.

I'm still processing Amanda F's death. There's a fundraiser (like a Kickstarter) to help defray the funeral costs. From what a friend told me, they were waiting to have kids ... so that's a good thing, that it's only one death to mourn. Still, her husband is a YOUNG widower ... It's not something that you'd ever expect. At all.

I was kvetching to Michael earlier ... and he pointed out that it wouldn't work for everyone to "be twinkled" (i.e., translated ... like Moses). And I was all, "WHYYYYYyyyyyy?" And he pointed out that if it WERE the case, people wouldn't develop the faith that they'd need.
He's so smart and stuff.
"Well, I believe. Isn't that good enough? So why does Heavenly Father need to make crap things happen to people around me? I don't like it."
"He doesn't make these things happen," Michael pointed out, patiently.
"Well then, why does he LET crap things happen to people around me? I don't LIKE it," I pouted.

Yeah, he's SOOOOOOO lucky to be married to me.

Apparently, one of my reactions to a shock/tragedy like this is to shop like a madwoman for the nearest life-affirming event most important to me ... in this case, Michael's birthday and then Fathers' Day (but only presents for Michael. I should work on that. And get presents for a nephew and a few of our nieces).

Then I emailed Michael ... in my totally and completely MENTALLY-HEALTHY AND NOT AT ALL DISARMING AT ALL way:

"I bought your birthday present. So you CAN'T DIE. Because you're going to like it. And you'll be REALLY DISAPPOINTED if you don't get it this side of the veil.  .... And can I put $XX on the credit card for your Father's Day present? ... And you can't die before you get that, either."

Yeah ... I'm not at all showing total control-freak/not-handling-death-well issues ... at all.

TOTALLY NORMAL BEHAVIOR HERE. NOTHING TO SEE, Y'ALL.

I didn't volunteer at school this week ... they were doing testing.
I also took Bruise to the dentist; his spacer had broken ... and then broke off. Whoops.
So, it'll be replaced in a couple weeks. The office took a new impression of his teeth.
Looks like he'll have the spacer in until that molar comes in ... in 3-5 years. *sigh*

Not that I should be surprised, his front teeth haven't come out yet. Just those bottom-front ones.

Maybe Bubbles is just going to sleep all through the night? I have no idea. I kind of DON'T want to wake her ... but if she's going to wake up crazy early ... I don't know. I'll wake her up so that she can eat.

Bruise was chuffed to bits with one of the prizes from the dentist.
He got a little stick-on mustache.
And wore it to school ... until he got it wet and it wouldn't stick anymore.

Well, I'm going to go feed that baby ... and then, after I put her to bed, I'll paint Bucket's toes and we can watch some girly movie or something. And break out the ice cream.

And I'll do my best not to burst into tears or stare, catatonic, at walls.
Tragedy + shark week = suckage.

Who knows, maybe Freyja-cat will let Bucket pet her some more. That'd make Bucket's night.

Oh, hey, you know the pintrest thing where you make a body scrub of oil, sugar, and some citrus?
I tried that today. Instead of olive oil, I used coconut oil. And I used key lime juice for the citrus (hey, it was at hand) ... it smells super yum. And my legs and armpits are very soft. So are my feet. Though my feet are a little dry. Oh well. So I can give that Pin a gold star, right?